Accidental
by Polly Little
Summary: "Feliciano would be my age, but...Fate chose otherwise." It might be an accident, but it still matters.Lovino knows. So does Feli - but being dead makes it a little hard to see. Two years on, Lovino's fine with just his brother's ghost for company, but a girl with a haunted house and a book full of other people's words might just change fine into fantastico.
1. Chapter 1

Every time Lovino closes his eyes, he sees it again.

" _Feliciano!"_

And every time, he knows that he's powerless to do anything, to change anything, because what's done is done and wishing on a star or something equally stupid only makes things worse.

" _Hurry up, idiota!"_

He doesn't want to remember. He has to, though, and it's stupid things that cause it. Gravel and raindrops and getting pencil shavings over his shirt, all everyday occurrences that make his vision go blurry and his hands start shaking.

" _Sorry, Lovi~!"_

It's all stupid, little things like that. Apologies and burning pasta and a clearly defined absence sitting next to him, because one moment Feliciano was alive and well and laughing, and the next he was just… not.

" _Feliciano!"_

He used to laugh at horror movies, mocking the idiots running away from a ghost that couldn't even touch solid objects. Now, though? He's horribly, secretly jealous because those people are only haunted once. Lovino's haunted twice – once by the ghost that actually is his brother, and again by the ghost of who Feliciano should have got to be.

" _Hurry up, idiota!"_

He blinks, the rain falls, his brother disappears before it even hits the ground. He's scared that one day he'll open his eyes and Feliciano will truly be gone, and he doesn't know how he'll feel then.

" _Feliciano!"_

He blinks, the rain falls, and so it continues. A vicious cycle that he's desperately clinging to, because what does he have left if he lets go?


	2. Chapter 2

He's sitting at the table eating breakfast, when Nonno walks in.

"Lovino! Good to see you up and about."

He grunts, and carries on chasing Cheerios around the bowl, making an obnoxious dinging noise with his spoon.

"Where's your brother?" Nonno winces under the force of his glare. "Sebastian. Where's Sebastian?"

He shrugs. "Probably out."

"Do you - do you have any plans for today?"

When did Nonno become so nervous talking to him? Oh, that's right. He kicks Feliciano from under the table for giggling, and considers the question.

"Well, I was planning on going to the cinema with my _beautiful_ girlfriend Jackie, and after that we were going out for dinner." Too sarcastic? Maybe, but Nonno doesn't seem to notice.

"You never mentioned a girlfriend, Lovi! Is she nice? Can I meet her?"

He sighs, and pulls his headphones out of his pocket. "Jackie, meet nonno. Nonno, meet Jackie."

Nonno doesn't seem too impressed. "You know, when most people say _girlfriend,_ they usually mean a female of their own species."

He shrugs. "It's short for headphone jack. Which, unlike you, I still have."

Feliciano giggles again, and he smirks, pleased to have made his little brother laugh.

He spends the rest of the meal in silence, then pushes his chair in, purposefully scraping it against the tiles.

Nonno winces. "Must you be so loud?"

He ignores him, and slouches up the stairs to his room.

 **A/n: Alright so far? Like my other stories, this one needs a Beta.**


	3. Chapter 3

An hour later, he's on the bus into town, tapping his fingers against the window in time to the rain.

Feliciano's with him (when isn't he?), and tugs on his sleeve for attention.

"Lovi~" he whines, and Lovino has to count to three not to get annoyed. "Where are we going?"

"Into town, idiota," he snaps. "Same as every week."

"Can we go to the bakery?" It's a stupid question, but Feliciano still asks.

"And what would you eat?" Lovino hates to burst his bubble, but it's only logical.

"Cake?" Lovino resists the urge to facepalm, and instead offers his brother a toffee. He doesn't know whether to laugh or cry when Feliciano's hand goes through the bag.

"You see my point?"

His face screwed up in concentration, Feliciano either doesn't hear, or simply doesn't care. "Wait, hold on, I almost got it that time."

He sighs, and leaves the bag out. Translucent hands bat at it, longing for the sweet they'll never reach. It becomes too painful to watch, and Lovino looks away, out of the window.

Before he knows it they're at their stop, and he's halfway down the aisle before he realises he's lost his brother.

The world begins to spin, but Feliciano isn't any closer.

"Feliciano!" Never mind the looks he's getting, this is an emergency. "Feliciano, where are you?"

A kindly old lady taps him on the shoulder. "Are you okay, dear?"

"I'm fine, ma'am, thank you for asking, and you?" He only realises he's scripting when she doesn't respond. "Sorry, force of habit."

Now he's off the bus, under the trees by the edge of the road, and his brother's still nowhere in sight. "Fratellino!" Still no cheery greeting. Desperate times call for desperate measures, he supposes.

"Feliciano Vene Vargas, come here this instant!" He's rewarded by the sight of his brother wandering towards him, a puppet on an invisible string, and breathes a sigh of relief.

"What did you think you were doing, stupid?"

"Ve~, there was a pretty lady, and I stopped to talk to her, and then-"

He cuts him off part way through. "Never mind. Just - just don't do that again, you hear me?"

He grabs his brother's hand, and together they walk towards the cinema.

 **A/n: scripting is when you have a set response to certain questions, actions, situations, etc. Sometimes it's accidental, others it's on purpose. It can be both useful and trapping.**


	4. Chapter 4

"Two tickets for…" and here he trails off. He knows they'd chosen a specific movie, but which one was it? "The superhero one?"

Luckily, the ticket guy doesn't notice, and soon they're inside the cinema. He pulls his hood up, and sits down.

"Excuse me?" It's a girl. Braids, almond shaped eyes, and a dress that he remembers seeing last time Nonno dragged him out shopping. She looks nice enough, but he's not in the mood to chat.

"Seat twenty seven F, yes this one," he nods to Feliciano's chair, "is taken."

"Sorry for asking," she mutters, and stalks off. Does he care? Maybe a little, but at the end of the day, that was Feliciano's job.

The adverts are just beginning to start, and he scowls at the people just beginning to walk in. Take a little longer, why don't they?"

"Fratello," he jumps. "There's a man over there."

"So?" There are men everywhere, it's not like they're Amazons.

"I think he wants to come past."

Oh. He bushes, and looks up. "Well? Do you want me to move, or are you spending the entire movie standing in the aisle?"

The man nods his thanks, and rudely pushes past.

"A thank you would have been nice," he says to himself. He only realises he's staring when Feliciano elbows him, and he quickly returns his attention to the screen.

A hand taps him on the shoulder. "What?"

It's another girl. Green eyes this time, but the same yellow sundress. He's pleased to see she's smiling - it's never good when a stranger glares at you. "Hi! Can I get past please?"

"Huh? Oh, sure, whatever." Smooth, Lovino, so smooth. This is why you have no friends.

"Fantastico!" She waits for him to squeeze out of the aisle before walking past (he's liking her more already), and offers him popcorn when he does sit down.

She doesn't talk after that, which he appreciates. He came to the cinema to watch a film, not talk. They have the entire row to themselves - for some reason she bought three tickets, and there are only five seats in each row.

Other then waving their respective refreshments at the other every so often, they have no further communication, so he's a little surprised when after the movie she pulls him aside and gives him her number. He'll have to hold onto that.

 **A/n: Don't you hate it when that happens? You knpw exactly which movie, could name the main characters and their actors, have seen every prequel out, but you can't remember the name.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Lovino!" It's Nonno, standing in the kitchen. He's barely through the doorway, and already he's expected to talk. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

"I'm not hungry," Lovino calls out as he walks to the stairs. Dinner means people, and people mean talking.

"How was the movie?" He just won't give up, will he?

He shrugs. "It was alright. Feliciano," he swallows. "Feliciano would have loved it. The main character was a doofus, just like him."

That cuts off the conversation before it even starts, and he's able to push past Nonno to the safety of his room.

He flings his rucksack in the general direction of his desk, and flops onto the bed, hood still up. As an afterthought he removes his socks (horrible things).

Lovino stares at the reminder carefully inked onto the back of his hand, and wonders whether to do anything about it. _Text Izzy._ He remembers feathery strands of hair tickling his face as she wrote it, and the way her tongue stuck out in concentration. He rubs the slowly forming bruise on his forehead, where they both leant forward too fast. That wouldn't be fading any time soon.

 _Hey_ he texts. It's probably a bit soon, but she did say to call as soon as possible, and texting is the best alternative (he doesn't like speaking on the 'phone, he can never understand anyone).

Almost instantaneously, his 'phone dings.

 _Hey! How are you?_

Yes, he's obviously extremely likely to have contracted the plague over the short journey home.

 _The same._

Maybe that was a little rude. After a moment's pause, he adds _You?_ and sends the message.

 _Great!_

Such a stimulating conversation.

 _Do you like chickens?_

Well, that was random.

 _I wouldn't know – never seen one (except in the supermarket, of course)._

Honesty's the best policy, right?

 _That's awful! You have to come 'round mine - I have six._

This girl texts like lightning.

 _Mamá says it's fine._

So he'd met her an hour ago, and she was already telling her parents about him?

 _Wait, she wants to know your name, and I've kind of forgotten…_

Had they actually asked each other for names? Now he came to think of it, no.

 _Lovino. What about you?_

 _Isabella. Please don't shorten it. I worked hard for those letters! (c;_

He snorts, and changes her name in the contacts page.

 _Of course not._

Nothing happens for a few minutes, so he gets up and pulls a book off the shelf. Idle hands knit the devil's stockings, as Nonna used to say.

 _Lovinooooooooooooooo?_

He jumps - he'd forgotten about their conversation.

 _Ready and waiting._

The replies take a little longer this time.

 _Fantastico! Are you free tomorrow?_

He snorts. When isn't he free?

 _As a bird._

As a bird under eighteen living with their grandfather with their GcSEs coming up, of course.

 _Do you want to come over?_

Maybe it's foolish, but he does. He hasn't enjoyed a conversation this much since - since he used to walk Feliciano to school.

 _Sure._

Now all he needs is her address. He waits a few hours, but she still hasn't responded.

 _Isabella?_

She texts back instantly.

 _Hi!_

Now for a question that, if it isn't phrased correctly, could get him a restraining order.

 _Where do you live?_

Nicely handled, Lovino. You'll become a certified stalker in no time at this rate!

Luckily, she isn't bothered, and he has her address in minutes. It isn't too far, just over the hill.

 **A/n: We now have a cover! That took about half an hour to get the angle right – I'm so glad I'm not a model. One of my friends has been lovely enough to look over the first few chapters, and has helped me shape the plot (she's on YouTube as River Ashwood if you're interested), so we currently have seventeen and a half valid chapters.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Important message at bottom of A/n, please read.**

Toast for breakfast this time. He props his book open with an elbow, and when Nonno comes in he actually acknowledges him. Well, he waved a piece of toast. Hopefully that counts.

Sebastian bounces in a few seconds later. "Ciao!"

Of course, _he_ gets a hug. Feliciano smiles sympathetically from across the table, ever the cheerful thirteen year old, so he can't feel too jealous.

Still, he does feel awkward. "I'm going out again today, Nonno."

"Where to this time?" He doesn't look surprised. None of them spend much time at home these days.

"My friend Isabella's."

Nonno sighs, and looks vaguely disappointed. "Which gadget are you talking about now?"

He's mildly offended. "Nonno, I am capable of making friends with actual human beings."

"Of course you are…" but he can tell he doesn't believe him.

"She lives at Ash cottage." Now he's got everyone's attention, even Sebastian, who was about to sneak out the back door.

"Isabella… Isabella Fernandez-Carriedo?" Does Nonno know her?

Lovino shrugs. "Maybe."

He's smiling. Hopefully that's a good sign. "She's a nice girl, from what I've heard. I talk to her mother at the swimming pool occasionally."

Now that's a mental image he doesn't want. "If it turns out she's my aunt…"

"You'll what?" Nonno winks.

Sebastian chimes in. "Please. Let's change the subject."

"Okay, okay." Nonno raises his hands in surrender. "Be back by five, I'm making cannelloni tonight."

Next to him, Feliciano squeaks in delight. "Pasta!" No one else seems to notice, but he's used to it. They both are.

 **A/n: I liked this chapter. Seborga turned up for once, although I'm not too sure about the characterisation.**

 **As I've said before, I still need a Beta.**

 **IMPORTANT: On Monday, I'm going on holiday. There will be no updates for two weeks after that, as I won't have WiFi.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Lovino!" She hugs him, and though it's a shock, he's surprised to find he enjoys it.

"Good morning, Isabella," as soon as he says it he regrets it. Stupid boy! Formality isn't a good thing in this sort of situation.

"Um…" she lets go. "You can come in if you want to.

He follows her through the door, down a hallway painted like an olive grove (the branches are incredibly realistic, he'd think they were standing outside if he didn't know better), through the lounge (where Mrs Fernandez-Carriedo tells them to have fun), and up the stairs to her room. It's not particularly big, but the décor (white along the bottom, red along the top) makes it seem much larger than it is. There's a desk by the window, a bed in the corner, a wardrobe, and a bookcase on the remaining two walls. Isabella pulls on her earlobe when she notices the schoolbooks across the floor, but Lovino doesn't notice (truthfully, his room is much worse). His attention is drawn by a framed quote above the desk.

" _The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why_ ," he reads aloud.

"Mark Twain," Isabella says. "He's been one of my favourites for ages – much funnier than most people think."

"Where did you find that?" he asks, intrigued.

She shrugs. "On the internet. I print them off and keep them in a huge folder on my bookcase. It gets changed every month, so maybe you'll see the next one."

"My nonna used to do that sort of thing," Lovino reminisces. Every day I'd find a different quote in my lunch box."

"She sounds like a very patient lady."

"She was."

They sit on the bed in a comfortable silence a few minutes, Lovino rubbing at the words still ingrained in his skin, even after countless showers. What did she use to write her name, a tattoo kit?

Suddenly, the door slams.

"Thanks a lot, Gilbert!" Isabella calls.

"Who's Gilbert?" Lovino feels a little nervous - he'd only expected two people here.

"Just the guy who lived here about a century ago," she explains. "He looked after the house, but the hinges need replacing."

She laughs. "Mamá says it's haunted! So we're living here with two ghosts – apparently the guy who built it was sentenced to death, in this very room."

It's fairly obvious that Lovino's slightly scared - he doesn't need another ghost in his life.

"What about you? Who do you live with?"

"My nonno – apparently he knows your mum – and my brother." He draws out the last word, unsure whether to pluralise it. Feliciano doesn't exactly _live_ with them, but it wouldn't feel right to leave him out.

"You have siblings!" Isabella seems delighted. "What are their names?"

This is obviously the moment where Lovino forgets his brother's name.

"Um…"

"Feliciano and Sebastian," Feliciano whispers.

"Feliciano and Sebastian," he repeats. "Sebastian's twelve, three years younger than me. Feliciano would be my age, but…" why is he blinking back tears? "Fate chose otherwise."

Isabella says nothing, just puts her hand on his knee. He feels a little better.

"Do you – do you have any siblings?" he asks after a minute or two. She smiles reassuringly.

"That would be great, but no. I've always wanted a younger brother though."

Feeling bolder than usual, Lovino smiles. "I've always wanted an older sibling, too."

She laughs. "Well, now you do!"

 **A/n: So very awkward.**

 **I'm back now, still need a Beta, but I hope you're all enjoying the story!**


	8. Chapter 8

It's nice having an older sister, Lovino discovers. What's even nicer is that when he goes to school on Monday, there's someone waiting for him in the canteen.

"Lovino!" Isabella shouts, waving her bacon butty, and spattering the wall behind her with brown sauce. "Over here!"

There are two empty seats between her and the wall, but the one she pats for him to sit on is on the other side. "Who are they for?" He asks.

She laughs. "Oh, those are my invisible friends."

"A pleasure to meet you," he says, nodding at the gap.

"Here, I got you food," and she pushes another bacon butty towards him.

"Mm," he says. "This is really good." He hasn't had food from the school canteen before, and had wondered what all the fuss was about.

"Of course it is! I gave it to you, so it was bought with _love_." She grins cheesily at the end of the sentence.

"Aw, look! The freak's got herself a boyfriend!" Cackling, two girls walk past them into the corridor, and Isabella's grin fades.

"Who were they?" Lovino asks, wondering if she's alright.

"Just some girls in my form," Isabella says breezily. "Their egos are so high they're starting to be affected by the lack of oxygen."

He scowls. "I know some guys like that too."

Nothing more is said on the subject, and it becomes a regular occurrence. Whoever arrives first buys the other a sandwich, and Lovino's never been so eager to get to school in his life.

 **A/n: This story is now on Wattpad! This one will be updated first, of course, but if you prefer their layout, it could be useful.**


	9. Chapter 9

The sun is shining in the sapphire sky above, surprisingly warm for Autumn – rare for the famous British weather, although not as rare as expected – birds are singing, there's a reassuring hum from the beehives Mrs Fernandez-Carriedo so lovingly tends, and all that Lovino can think is that he really should have bought that suncream he was considering yesterday.

He huffs, and digs the shovel further into the sunbaked earth. They're supposed to be building a fence around the tomato garden, he and Isabella, but so far, _Lovino_ has been doing the digging, while Isabella chases of the inquisitive chickens intent on declaring the tomato garden Chickenopolis, the newest addition to the Avian Empire.

A hand claps him on the shoulder, and he spins around (no, he does _not_ squeak), brandishing the shovel as a weapon. Those things can be dangerous in the right hands.

"Whoever that is, I'm armed, dammit! Try anything and I'll –"

If he was being murdered, he's sure that would have made the right impression. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending how you look at it), he isn't.

Arms raised in surrender, Isabella hastily steps backwards, almost tripping over Tomatita III who had been scraping at the ground by the coop. Lovino lowers the shovel guiltily, quickly recovering his composure.

"I'm trying to sort out _your_ garden here – the least you can do is not attempt to decapitate me." He ignores the sharp edge of the shovel, digging into his shin, and reminding him that Isabella was the one who was almost decapitated.

She isn't bothered by his harsh tone, and instead produces an absolutely enormous sun-hat from behind her back. The faded cloth had been dyed a garish red at some point, the green band looked like it had originally been part of someone's favourite scarf, and, to top it all off, the entire monstrosity was dotted with plastic tomatoes, each roughly the size of a golf ball. Lovino squinted. Were the "tomatoes" glowing?

Isabella frowned momentarily, and hit the hat against the only fencepost he had managed to knock in after half an hour. No, the tomatoes weren't glowing. They were _flashing._

"What do you think?"

He didn't answer. What did he think? Well, he thought it would be nice to know what that thing was supposed to be, because it definitely wasn't a hat. No hat should look like that, and if it did, it should be put out of its misery. Preferably with fire.

Without warning, she rammed the hat down over his ears. He briefly noticed it smelt of something peppery – watercress? Mustard? _Pepper?_ – before the itching in his ears became unbearable, and he had to fling it off.

"Where the hell –" he starts off.

She's laughing, doubled over with her own cap (yellow, with _España_ embroidered on the front in a red that matched the brim) only held on by her ponytail, and holds up a hand to stop him while she catches her breath.

"You – you looked ridiculous!" Isabella gasps.

"I'm not the one in the bull print shorts," he scowls back. "Where did you even get those?"

"The Running of the Bulls Festival!" Now she's fishing in her pocket for her mobile, dropping the bundle of stakes she was holding in favour of clinging onto the chicken coop. "It was on while I visited my…" she blinks, but seems to regain her train of thought quickly enough. "My, er, uncle a few years ago."

The next question is unavoidable, drawing him in. "Please tell me you didn't participate."

She pouts. "Mamá wouldn't let me. But I did get some really good pictures from the balcony!"

She's found her mobile now, and is flicking through her photos.

"Look, this is, uh, Tío Toni's house."

She almost drops her 'phone, but shows him a picture of a quaint Spanish café – window boxes creaking under the weight of flowers and wrought iron furniture, slightly rusted, outside – where a much younger Isabella stands in the doorway, next to a man in his late thirties with the same tousled brown hair and green eyes as Isabella. She must only be about nine in the picture, but is still the lanky beanpole Lovino knows and loves.

"There's Mamá falling off a donkey."

That does seem to be what's happening – slightly blurred, Mrs Fernandez-Carriedo does have one leg over the donkey's back, but both arms pinwheeling and a shocked expression. In the background, Isabella's uncle is bent over laughing the same way she had been earlier.

"Tío Toni showed me how to take a selfie."

Isabella and her uncle, laughing with uncannily similar expressions, on a bench somewhere in Spain.

"I had to take this one."

A fountain, lit up by a nearby street lamp, looks like it's filled with diamonds instead of water.

"And –"

"Isabella! Are you leaving your friend to do all the work?" Mrs Fernandez-Carriedo bustles out, a plastic water bottle in each hand.

"No, Mamá!" She quickly pockets her 'phone, and holds the fencepost steady for Lovino to knock it into the ground.

"Fantastico! Make sure it stays that way!" She doesn't seem too angry, but that puts a stop to that conversation.

 **A/N: At over eight hundred words, this chapter is as long as the first three put together! I think we can all agree that Isabella has an awful dress sense (I'm ashamed to say that mine's just as bad).**

 **I'd like to know what you would like to have more of – Feli and Lovi, Lovi and Isabella, the Vargases, anyone! I'll even add a few extra characters if asked – I've almost finished all the plot relevant chapters, so updates will be on a schedule starting this January.**


	10. Chapter 10

You can learn a lot about someone from what they do when they think you aren't watching. It can show as much about them as what they would rescue from a burning building, what motivates them, when they're vulnerable, and who they trust to know it.

Isabella taps.

Not particularly loudly, it's tiny, inconsequential, just a quiet _tha-dum, tha-dum, tha-da-da-da-da-dum_ in the background, but it makes him wonder why she keeps it secret. Sebastian's the same, always tapping out some new rhythm – on the walls,on tables, plates, his own neck – but Isabella never adds even the slightest hesitation.

After a while, he gets so used to it that when she's not there, he taps it out himself – _tha-dum, tha-dum, tha-da-da-da-da-dum_ on his thighs while he waits for the bus to take him into town at the weekends. Bizarrely, when the bus actually arrives, he finds the rhythm more engrossing than the book Nonno finally trusted him enough to let him take out with him, and starts to make it more challenging, adding complexities every few repetitions.

He doesn't even notice Isabella when they reach her stop, not until she pushes his bag tumbling to the floor so she can sit down herself.

"It's good to see you were looking out for me," she laughs. If she recognises her rhythm, she doesn't show it, and begins to join in, flicking her wrist to make a double beat at the end of each phrase with a sly glint in her eye. He retaliates by scraping his palm across his thigh on the offbeat, and it becomes a battle of rhythms, adding and changing complexities to vary the rhythm so far it's almost unrecognisable.

They're so caught up in their game, Lovino only remembers they're on public transport when he feels everyone else staring at him.

"Maybe we should stop," he whispers to Isabella.

"Huh?" She looks confused, but that's hardly any different from usual.

"All these people are staring at us," he looks around, suddenly embarrassed. "It's really awkward."

"They're just jealous they haven't the skills to join in," she winks, but offers him a headphone and attempts the cheesiest dancing possible, which is obviously just as embarrassing, but soon he's too busy pretending not to laugh to care.

 **A/n: I'm so sorry, all my good intentions, and I'd forgotten to finish writing this chapter. It wasn't written with the main body of the story, so that should explain any inconsistencies, but it's up now, anyway.**


	11. Chapter 11

"Hungry?" Isabella asks. They're part way through a study session – she's currently helping him with his history homework. It's an essay on the Spanish civil war, and Isabella knows much more than expected.

"I'll be fine."

"No, really." She pulls the book away from him, and throws it on the bed, ignoring his complaints.

She jumps up, annoyingly quickly for someone who had been sprawled across the floor only moments before, and continues. "Mamá says you can stay for dinner."

"You don't have to feed me," he protests. He doesn't come here for food, he comes to spend time with Isabella. She doesn't think he's only coming for churros, does she?

"Your abuelo already agreed." She laughs, and races down the stairs, footsteps shaking the house.

"My what?" He shouts, and chases after her.

She's sitting on the bottom step in the lounge, panting. "Your…"

She trails off, flapping her hands agitatedly. It suddenly seems like she remembers, and she flashes him a beaming smile.

"Grandpa! I switch languages when I forget words." She offers in explanation.

Lovino doesn't ask what she means. He does the same thing when stressed.

"You know, even if I did say no, it wouldn't be because of you."

He sits down beside her.

"You're my best friend, even if you are an idiot."

She smiles. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome, genius."

He doesn't notice the whimper of protest from Feliciano. Or maybe he no longer cares.

 **A/n: I'm so sorry. There isn't actually an excuse for not updating, I've written ages ahead. On that note, I broke the 10,000 word barrier today! Yay! Without author's notes, the full story currently measures 10, 535 words. I'll upload again tomorrow to celebrate.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/n: I'd like to apologise in advance for the (sudden ?) change in atmosphere. The fic still needs a Beta, so if anything's wrong, let me know!**

"Lovino?" Feliciano's pulling on his coat sleeve on the way home from school, eyebrows anxiously lifted and mouth still half open, as if there's something else he wants to say but can't round up the nerve.

"Si?" He switches to Italian and brings his mobile up to his ear to put off eavesdroppers – you never know who might be listening after all, and he really doesn't want to deal with accusations of talking to thin air. That really hadn't gone well the last time around.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Feliciano whines.

"Ignoring you?" What a strange thing to say. "I'm talking to you now, aren't I?"

Feliciano pouts. "But you'd rather be talking to _Isabella."_

It shocks Lovino how bitterly the name comes out. Feliciano's never been this sarcastic in his… well, life isn't the best word to use here.

"No I wouldn't." He denies.

"You would, and we both know it." Feliciano crosses his arms, and looks away.

"Don't be stupid."

No response.

"Feliciano," he tries again, softer this time like he's approaching a frightened hedgehog caught in the fence. "Feli, where are you getting this idea from?"

"You talk to her more than me." The problem with hedgehogs is that if you don't approach them _just right_ , you get pricked, whether they mean to or not.

"No, I," but actually, he does. He changes tactic.

"I can't have anyone knowing I talk to you."

"Why not?" Feliciano exclaims, throwing his hands up. "Why are you so ashamed of me?"

This isn't a conversation that he wants to be having right now, or anytime, really. "I'm not ashamed."

"Then tell her!"

"And end up in an asylum?"

The next few seconds are spent in an awkward silence. Lovino watches the rain run down his sleeves.

 _Drip._

 _Drip._

 _Drip._

"You just don't like me having friends other than you," he growls finally.

"I only want her to know I exist!"

"Feliciano, _you are a ghost!"_

He's never seen his brother so disappointed. It's true, though, all of it.


	13. Chapter 13

His family notice he's different. Clearly Isabella is a positive influence, his grandfather says. Sebastian just teases him about having a girlfriend, then runs off.

Feliciano… well, Feliciano doesn't say much about anything any more, just smiles vaguely, and looks right through the speaker. Feliciano just doesn't know how to share, he tells himself. He should be happy for Lovino.

For some reason, he feels guilty. So Isabella's newest quote comes as a shock.

 _She's a mess of gorgeous chaos,_ _And you can see it in her eyes._

Feliciano was fine before Isabella. He's just being selfish. Everyone else they know has friends (even nonno, and he's ancient), why can't he? Lovino can't remember the last time he had friends beside Feliciano – wait, yes he can. It was before they'd all been chased away by the constant cold wind around him, the flickering lights that made it seem "just like a horror movie, dude", Lovino himself always talking to someone who wasn't there.

This time was going to be different, it had to be. Maybe this time someone would want to talk to him for himself, without Feliciano whispering advice into his ears and wringing his hands frantically every time Lovino misspoke.

He can't remember the last time he had a friend like that. Maybe he never did.

He can't remember the last time he met his brother's eyes, not properly. He'd tried to the other night, but was distracted by the owner of a pair of mossy green eyes calling his name.

 **A/n: Constant update schedule? What's that?**


	14. Chapter 14

"Why don't you come 'round my place next time?" He's been meaning to ask her for a while, and he's glad to have finally got it out of the way.

"I don't know, I'll have to see what Mamá says." Isabella looks more interested in chasing peas with her spoon than talking, and he has to admit, he's a little disappointed.

"What day would it be?" She's nervous. Why is she nervous? Did he do something wrong?

He shrugs, trying to hide his own nerves beneath his usual bravado. "Tomorrow? Any time after school, like usual, just at my house instead of yours.

"Um…" Isabella bites her lip. "Can I have a think about it?"

Just then, her mother dances into the room, all quick feet and flashing notes, humming with a basket of laundry in her arms. She'd look a little like Cinderella, in her floral patterned blue dress, and dark hair loosely pulled back by a large green butterfly, if Cinderella was in her early forties with tired, laughing hazel eyes, and a wedding band on a chain around her neck.

"What's this I hear about you going out, querida?" She glides over to her daughter, and hugs her from behind.

"Mamá!" Isabella doesn't seem too pleased by the sudden appearance, and cries out in shock.

"I was asking if Isabella wanted to come to my house for dinner some time soon?" It comes out as more of a question than a statement. He can feel Isabella glaring at him, and avoids her gaze, tracing the flowers carved into the table leg with a finger. Lovino doesn't know why she's so upset with him, so he's just going to ignore it.

Her mother, on the other hand, is delighted.

"Of course! Tell Marcus," she rattles off a message for Nonno, too quickly for him to _understand_ , let alone remember, in Spanish. "From me."

Isabella understood, and she's blushing. With that in mind, Lovino is suddenly very glad he can't speak Spanish.

"Mamá!" Isabella gasps. "I can't tell Mr Vargas that!"

"You don't have to, chica, as long as you go." She winks at Lovino, and he squirms uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm sure my message will get through one way or another."

She turns to go, and Lovino remembers his manners. "Thank you Mrs Fernandez-Carriedo!" He calls after her.

"Please, call me Tìa Saoia. You're here so often, you should be counted as family."

Although he laughs, Lovino can't help but think he'd much rather be a part of this family, with their music and laughter, than his own.

 **A/N: I know I haven't updated recently, and I'm sorry. I was debating about continuing this, plotholes and all, or restarting, but in the end I couldn't just abandon it! There will probably be an eventual rewrite, though.**


	15. Chapter 15

Like any other evening, Lovino and Isabella are sprawled on the floor, surrounded by school books and highlighters. Like any other evening, they're completely ignoring the concept of personal space, lying just as much on top of each other as they are the carpet, Isabella absentmindedly carding her fingers through Lovino's hair (which feels surprisingly _nice_ ) Lovino occasionally kicking her almost as if making sure she's still there _._ But unlike any other evening, they're in Lovino's bedroom. And unlike any other evening, he has no idea what to say.

To call it an awkward silence would be an exaggeration, but regardless of how comfortable it is, Lovino's starting to regret inviting Isabella _here_ of all places, and Feliciano glaring balefully down from the top of the bookcase doesn't help at all.

Lovino glares at him, trying to urge him with his eyes to either help him to find something to say, or get out. Feliciano merely pouts further, and wedges himself further back into the corner, where the walls meet the ceiling and he has to duck to avoid getting cobwebs tangled in his hair.

It's not really new, this had always had a habit of hiding in high places. Before the accident, it had been curled up in the attic, or dangling his legs over the edge of his windowsill, or even, on one heartstopping occasion, the library roof. Lovino wasn't the only abnormal child (or _gifted_ , as Nonno would say, although Lovino was never quite sure what exactly his gift was supposed to be) in the Vargas household – Feliciano just did a better job of hiding it.

Even so, Feliciano looks oddly pathetic, curled up at the ceiling, and Lovino has to excuse himself – ostensibly to go to the bathroom, but actually to interrogate his brother about what was wrong.

"What's your problem?" He hisses, paranoid that someone will overhear. "You've looked like a kicked puppy all evening."

It's not the most tactful of methods, but it works. Feliciano's bottom lip quivers. "You like her more than me."

"I like-" he tugs his fringe in exasperation. He's sick of this conversation, sick of trying to comfort someone who doesn't want to be comforted. "This again? Really, Feli?"

Feliciano nods, a touch more petulant, and if Isabella wasn't sitting on the other side of the hall wall, Lovino would be banging his head on it. He closes his eyes instead, and attempts to remind himself that Feliciano died at an awful, awkward age, and is still too young to properly understand and express his emotions, and if he blows up at him now then reading all those parenting books under the table in the corner of the school library was for nothing.

Mostly, this works. It doesn't stop him from rolling his eyes and muttering "what did I expect?" – because Lovino himself isn't exactly the most emotionally aware person – but that's just enough to make Feliciano detonate instead. His face crumples, and that's all the warning Lovino gets before his little brother is wailing.

One of them is yelling – probably Feliciano, but Lovino can't tell anymore – and Feliciano is crying, and his head hurts, and any minute now Isabella is going to come out and see him arguing with a wall, and he can't do this. He can't.

Slamming the door behind him, Lovino shuts himself into the bathroom. He sits down, pulls his knees up to his chest, and tries to think about something interesting, like turtles.

Turtles are good. Turtles can swim as soon as they're born. Turtles return to the same beaches every year to lay eggs. Turtles don't yell at their older brothers for something they can't control. Turtles don't have meltdowns in the bathroom.

He pulls his shirt collar over his ears, and imagines how much easier life would be if he was a turtle. He'll go back out in a minute. He just needs a moment to himself.

 **A/n: Sorry for disappearing. There was a HUGE plothole, but it's sorted now so the next chapter will be up within a week, maybe sooner. (c:**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/n: Fun fact, the dialogue in this scene was mostly taken directly from an actual meltdown! If you know that reading it will have a negative effect on you, then please proceed with caution etc.**

He only realised what was happening when he heard the shouting.

He's in the year below Isabella, so although he did hear that someone had been crying in the girl's bathroom by L5, it wouldn't make any sense for her to have left her part of the school. Besides, this was highschool; someone crying wasn't really that unusual.

He takes a little longer packing his bag than usual – it's just one of those days – so he's the last one out of the form room (as usual). It's eerily quiet, and his footsteps echo on the cold white tiles. He stops when he gets to the stairs. Someone, a girl, is shouting – no, screaming, at the top of the stairs.

"What's the point? You tell me this, Gil, you tell me, what is the bloody point?"

He recognises that voice.

Dropping his bag, he runs up the stairs (one way system be damned), to where Isabella is openly sobbing at the top of the stairs. She doesn't see him – probably because of the hair pulled in front of her tear-streaked face – and carries on shouting at no one.

"The only future I'm getting is on the streets!" He never knew she could be this loud, even when they played Cluedo and he beat her every time. "However hard I try, it's all going to go wrong anyway!"

She kicks at the wall, hard enough to dent the plaster. "I've already tried my best, and look how that turned out! I don't want to – I don't – I don't want-"

Whatever it is she wants, she's sobbing too hard for him to understand, and now all Lovino wants is for her to feel happy again. Awkwardly, he reaches out an arm and pulls her towards him. It's the second breakdown he's dealt with in as many days – first Feliciano and now Isabella – but that doesn't make it any easier.

"What's the point?" She chokes out, mumbling into his shoulder.

He doesn't know how to answer her – he asks the same questions himself sometimes – so they just stand out of the way behind the door, as Isabella screams out her feelings.

She finally lets go, looking down at him through bloodshot eyes.

"Here," he presses a tissue into her hand.

She loudly blows her nose.

"Thanks," she croaks.

"Don't mention it."

Neither of them will, even when they walk into Monday morning lessons late. "Forgot my pencil case," he'll mutter. Some things aren't his to tell.


	17. Chapter 17

"Have you ever had a secret – something really important, not a silly thing like eating the last tomato – and you knew you couldn't handle it, but you were too scared to actually say?" Isabella looks no better than the day before. Shadows frame her dull green eyes, and her hair has lost its shine. Even her usual happy-go-lucky smile is gone.

Lovino's eyes widen. This really wasn't how he was expecting to start the morning, and he has to clench his fists under the table to keep his hands from trembling.

"You're asking me," he says, slowly.

She nods, also slowly, one eyebrow raised as if to say " _who else is there_ " – and for once, they have an entire table to themselves, just Lovino and Isabella.

He bites his lip, nervous – it's a running joke at his house how Lovino always missed social cues – but then some strange spark of adrenalin takes over and he blurts, "I can see ghosts, Isabella."

He expects shock, horror, for her to suddenly be scared of him whether she believes him or not. He expects to hear nervous laughter and then never be spoken to again, like when he went to his first group of friends for help. He expects her to throw the sticky finger he just bought her (she looked like she could do with the sugar) in his face.

It's a bit dramatic, maybe, but he's absolutely terrified. He almost expects her to shove her crucifix in his face and back away screaming.

Instead, she nods again, as if what he'd just said was obvious. "I knew that."

"Y-you did?" He stutters.

"Your little brother told me." Well, he wasn't expecting that. A little build up would have been nice.

"You're joking!"

She sighs. "You aren't the only one who can see ghosts, Lovino."

"But – you – he – _how?"_ He asks, gesticulating wildly.

"That's not what I -" she tries to change the subject, but he cuts her off half way through.

"No, back to the ghost bit. How long?" It's not making sense, how can she see ghosts, wasn't he the only one, is she joking, is this all some elaborate trick set up to make an even bigger fool of him? It doesn't make sense.

"Five years or so, but that's not important, have you-" She tries again.

Unfortunately, he doesn't listen.

"Not important?! This is the most important thing I've ever heard!" He shouts, misjudging his own volume in excitement.

Isabella looks around nervously. "Lovino, calm down. You're drawing attention," she hisses, and tugs on his sleeve to pull him back down. Lovino doesn't remember standing up – when did that happen?

"I will not calm down! You mean to tell me, you've known all this time, and-" and now it's his turn to be interrupted.

"I've been dropping hints since I met you, Lovino! How obvious am I supposed to get?"

He blinks, stunned. Isabella grabs her rucksack and stands up with a sigh. "Come and find me when it sinks in, okay?"

He doesn't even realise she's going until she's already gone.

 **A/n: The plot has finally (finally!) appeared, and with it A REPLACEMENT OF THE FIRST CHAPTER, GO READ (which was also long overdue).**


	18. Chapter 18

Thursday, after school. Lovino stays back to explain to the teacher how he just couldn't be bothered to do his physics homework. It's an awful excuse, and she clearly doesn't believe it for a second, but as it's genuinely the reason why he has to just go with it.

The detention is scheduled for Monday, and he's just packing up his things when _slam!_ The door closes.

He ignores it. It's nothing unusual; in an old building like this the builders are in more often than not, and it's entirely possible that the doorframe might just need replacing.

 _Crash!_ The whiteboard is sent rattling on its axis.

 _Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang!_ Every stool in the room falls off the desks.

 _Don't freak out, Lovino,_ he tells himself. It's just the wind. _The wind can't hurt you._

However, he can't write off the floating board-pen, scrawling his name across the shaking board in large, uneven letters, as being just the wind.

 _ **Vargas!**_

"That's me." Why is his voice shaking? He's not scared, damn it.

 _ **Can you see me?**_

"Clearly not!" He looks around nervously. The classroom is seemingly empty, but that only serves to put him more on edge. If anything happens to him, then it will look like an accident. He can't call for help, because no one would believe that an invisible ghost is yelling at him through a blackboard. He can't run away if he can't see what's chasing him. Lovino has no idea what to do, and he can't stop his knees from knocking.

 _ **Do you want to see me?**_

"Maybe?" The pen comes towards him like an arrow, and he dives beneath a bench, hitting his head on the way under, but he's too scared to care. "Si!"

 _ **Are you sure?**_

Double underlined for emphasis, which isn't threatening at all. He rolls out from under the bench, and sprints for the door.

 _ **Boo!**_

The board-pen clatters to the ground, and a hand clamps down on his shoulder. He turns around to meet crimson eyes and a lopsided grin, and Lovino's scream is so high pitched, he's surprised the windows are still intact.

He's going to die. He's going to die, and they'll never know who killed him. He's going to die in an empty physics classroom, and he's not even any good at physics. _He's going to die._

"Hey," says the ghost, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "I'm Gilbert."


	19. Chapter 19

**Brief gore (literally a paragraph)**

"So you're telling me, _you_ are the guy haunting Isabella?"

The ghost sitting sprawled a few centimetres above the workbench opposite waves a hand noncommittally. "Plus Francis, but yeah.

He doesn't look much different from anyone you'd see on the street – slate grey trousers, an untucked shirt, and a cap. The most unusual thing about him is his hair - smokey grey in the poor lighting, silver when he walks in front of a window. He's gangly and awkward and bends down at one point to scratch his foot. He can't have been older than nineteen, and behaves, well, much more _alive_ than expected. Gilbert doesn't act as though being dead is anything more than a minor inconvenience.

"And you decided to approach me – why?" As hard as he tries, Lovino can't think of a reason. "Si, my life sucks. That doesn't mean I need another damn ghost floating around and getting in the way!"

Gilbert laughs. Lovino waits for him to stop, but it drags on far too long, becomes awkward. The ghost has a habit of doing this, he's noticed. He's been dead so long, he's forgotten the rest of the world is still capable of moving on without him.

"Oi! Potato face!"

Gilbert glares at him. " "Potato face"? Really? Of all the words in the English language…" he shakes his head in disbelief.

"Get to the point, some of us have lives to get back to," Lovino scowls. It's a low blow, but he still hasn't forgiven the ghost for terrifying him out of his wits, and most likely never will (hey, he's a Vargas! They can hold grudges for generations, which is why he'll never buy pearls from anyone named Hassan. Don't ask why, he got that little _pearl_ of information from Nonno).

Gilbert winces, but carries on, a hurt look in his scarlet eyes. "Well, seeing how you've been getting on with your brother, I'm not sure I want you talking to _my_ best friend."

"In case you haven't noticed, sunshine, this isn't the Victorian era," Lovino snaps. "How I talk to my brother isn't any of your business."

He doesn't quite know how to identify the face Gilbert pulls next. It isn't a happy one, but it isn't exactly unhappy, either. He looks… wistful, remembering some long ago mistake. Suddenly, it's obvious how old Gilbert is. "I said that too, once. "It's none of your business what we're saying, this is our house, and we can speak our language if we want to."" He laughs hollowly. ""I don't see why I have to watch mein Bruder all the time, Mrs White." So I didn't." He shrugs. "So West said something stupid, and I know what happens when you ignore those close to you."

Lovino watches with bated breath as the older boy pulls his cap off. He wants to interrupt, but somehow can't – maybe it was the tension stopping him, or something more supernatural. Gilbert runs a hand through his silver hair, pulling it back on one side.

Lovino can't help but gasp.

Directly above his left ear, Gilbert has a hole. A bullet hole, to be precise. It's bleeding sluggishly (the glowing ectoplasm dissipating after a few seconds contact with the air), and was obviously the cause of Gilbert's death. The skin around it is puckered and an inflamed garish red, as if it had tried to heal and been reopened, and the hair, _Dios,_ the hair is matted and clumped together, tangled locks coated in a gritty brown substance that would make any medical practitioner throw their hands up in horror.

Gilbert pulls his cap back on, a little self-consciously, and rolls his eyes. "I know I'm awesome, but you don't need to stare." He snarks.

Lovino finally finds his voice. "How the – how the hell did you do that?"

"What do you think? Fell down the stairs?" Gilbert deadpans. "Executed for treason, apparently on orders of his majesty George the Fifth."

He makes a show of inspecting his fingernails for nonexistent dirt, and scoffs, "Of course, I don't think I was important enough to warrant any particular personal interest."

Lovino can't believe it. "George the Fifth? What did you do?"

"Apparently, caused the deaths of an entire squadron." Gilbert pauses for dramatic effect, one eyebrow lifted. "But that's neither here nor there (although, for the record, I was innocent). What is important here is Isabella."

Lovino rolls his eyes. "Isabella can handle herself."

"Normalerweise, yes. However…" The normally cheerful ghost frowns. " " _By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."_ Something is going to happen, going to happen soon, and you're not going to like it."

"I don't believe it," Lovino states incredulously.

"Then don't," Gilbert shrugs. "You're the expert, of course. How long did it take you to notice me? Four months?"

Lovino didn't have an answer to that, and Gilbert faded into nothingness, leaving the scent of gunpowder and the barest trace of a smirk lingering in the air.


End file.
